


Beyond and Away

by neko_chelle (fivefootnothing)



Category: Naomi Novik - Temeraire series
Genre: Gen, Yuletide, challenge:Yuletide 2007
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-25
Updated: 2007-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-21 23:45:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/603373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fivefootnothing/pseuds/neko_chelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Temeraire ponders the clouds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beyond and Away

**Author's Note:**

  * For [General Havoc](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=General+Havoc).



Temeraire descended at the edge of Loch Laggan, landing solidly along the shore. His tongue darted out for a moment, tasting the delicate, gray mist which hung just above the water. Laurence once explained to him that fog and clouds were borne of the same principles, though one clung to the Earth while the other hovered in the sky. 

"I should like to taste a cloud one day," Temeraire had then told Laurence.

"If any dragon had the fortitude to attempt that feat, it would be you, my dear," Laurence had replied fondly, giving Temeraire a few pats on his right front flank. "But flying so far away from the Earth which supports us is extremely dangerous, I've heard."

"How so? The ground would still be beneath us, just farther away. And I would never fly high enough to lose sight of it!"

"Jane Roland has told me some tales. I cannot vouch for their veracity as they came to her second or third hand, but she has said that - long ago, when the bond between man and dragon first formed -Â  dragons and their captains once attempted the very same idea: flying high enough to soar among the clouds themselves. The dragons' lungs burst, my dear. Not from too much air, but too little. And the less said about captain and crew, the better."

Temeraire kept silent on the subject for the rest of that day, morosely contemplating the consequences of drifting higher than any dragon were meant to drift. If there isn't enough air among the clouds, couldn't it somehow be bottled and taken aboard, like wine or water? The idea seemed incredulous, and he was loathe to inform Laurence about it, thinking that his beloved captain would find it quite foolish. As foolish as flying among the clouds.

But today, surrounded by early morning mist, Temeraire mulled the idea over again, and today it seemed like an excellent idea. A very excellent idea. If mist only formed on cool mornings, then it stood to reason that clouds would form under the same circumstances. He needed to think; he needed to swim. 

He bent his head close to the water, sniffing at it with his nose. With one graceful leap, he splashed into the loch, the water delightfully frigid. It reminded him of the winter night patrols, the air so crisp that frost threatened to form on his scales, which caused his crew to spend much of their time scrambling about his back to scrape the ice away.

He lingered at the very edge of the loch, turning around so his front legs could be planted upon the shore. His wings spread out to their full length, the tips just low enough to dip into the shallow water. As he folded his wings upon his back, he lifted his eyes to study the sky. A blanket of clouds spread high above him, almost taunting him with their perceived closeness. On days like these, it seemed so simple: just fly up and up and up until...

"Temrer!" called a familiar voice.

Temeraire arched his head to follow a dark speck swiftly emerging from the blanket of gray. Little Volly, the courier dragon, had somehow managed to find him; the little Greyling's front claws held a strange but welcome surprise: a freshly-killed sheep.

"Sheep?" Volly said brightly, as soon as he landed. "Not cow," he added with a slight tinge of disappointment. "But still good! Sheep, Temrer?"

Temeraire blinked at the gift, for he'd realized that Volly wasn't merely displaying the spoils of his hunt; Volly meant to share it with him. "Are you sure?" he asked, mastering his instinct to snatch the carcass and fly off to eat it in solitude. "It is a very plump-looking sheep. Wouldn't you wish to eat it yourself, Volly?"

"For Temrer!" Volly said, dropping the kill right in front of Temeraire. "Temrer," Volly repeated, nudging the carcass towards the other dragon with his snout. 

"Oh. Thank you very much, Volly. It was kind of you to bring me breakfast."

Volly's chest puffed up with pride at Temeraire's praise. "I'll get mine now!" And with a bang of a leap, he was aloft and gone.

The Greyling wasn't gone long; Temeraire had only just ambled out of the water and was angling his claws to slash open the sheep's abdomen when Volly suddenly appeared in the sky again. 

"Mine!" Volly said triumphantly, another sheep splayed inelegantly between his front claws. He swooped low and deposited his breakfast near Temeraire, landing next to him and immediately digging into the still-warm offal. "Mmmm," he murmured contentedly, his maw buried in intestine and stomach and noisily chomping away. "Mmmm."

Temeraire lifted his head from his own meal to watch the spectacle of Volly eating. He had never witnessed a dragon who so delighted in devouring as Volly did. Each grunt, each smacking of lips, each slurp of blood echoed Volly's obvious enjoyment. This was a dragon who reveled in breakfast. Temeraire started to self-consciously examine the way he ate, the way he disliked getting too covered in the gore. His way suddenly seemed tremendously ungrateful.

Volly tilted his blood-caked head just enough to aim his gaze at Temeraire. "Eat!" he insisted. "It's good! Good breakfast." 

Temeraire slashed the sheep's stomach open, revealing the steaming offal. Mirroring Volly's gusto, he tried to stick his own snout into the ragged gash but found he couldn't quite fit. Disappointed at his own attempt, Temeraire ate the way he normally did, though adding a few "Mmmm"s in between did somehow make the meal seem tastier. "Volly, have you ever thought of flying to the clouds?" he asked.

The little dragon paid little attention to Temeraire's question, so occupied was he in crunching bones to get to marrow.

"Volly?" Temeraire repeated, reminding himself that Volly was a "simple" dragon, and that patience was required in dealing with him. "The clouds. Have you ever flown to them?"

"Clouds?" Volly said, his jaws dripping with the fatty, yellow marrow. "They're pretty. White. Soft!"

"Yes, they can be, but have you flown among them? With James?"

Volly made an odd squeaky noise and turned his attention back to his sheep.

"Volly?" Temeraire asked again. "Have you...?"

"Too far!" Volly exclaimed, bits of gore flinging from his jaws. "Much, much too far..."

"Does that mean...you have attempted it?" Temeraire, his breakfast forgotten in the midst of this revelation, dipped his head closer to Volly as if trying to share in a profound secret.

"Too far. Too high. Too cold. James...wanted to."

"And what happened then?" Temeraire didn't really have to ask the question. He knew a dragon's loyalty to his captain was absolute; if Laurence had told him to fly off the edge of the world, he would have done it gladly. As long as he was with his captain, little else mattered.

"Too cold," said little Volly, turning back to his kill and filling his mouth with the last of the sheep, perhaps trying to keep himself from having to speak more. 

Temeraire let out a slightly frustrated grunt and fell silent. Someday, he thought, someday when the war is over and Napoleon is defeated, I shall take my captain and escape. We shall sail again; Laurence shall have another ship, a larger one which will support myself and my crew. Someday we shall sail to a place where the land is very close to the sky, and I will take my Laurence into the clouds. 

Away from the world; away from everything, and I will find out if clouds taste the same as fog.

END 


End file.
